Chronicles of the Dead
by MiraiYume
Summary: Contains DH spoilers! Sometimes those who are gone still have things to say. If you're quiet enough, maybe you can hear them.
1. Feathered Companion

Author's Notes: I was waiting until the last book was here to write these. Here, in no particular order, are the characters we loved, who reappear once more to muse on themselves, their lives, or anything else. They may be long or short, serious or funny, but they are all written with care. There are indeed spoilers, so make certain you've read Deathly Hallows!

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Hedwig **

What stories does an owl have to tell?

You'd be surprised at the amount of information that gets passed around an owlery, I'm quite certain. But that's not for me to repeat. Not now.

I wonder, sometimes, if he thinks of me. We spent six years together, either at the castle or that wretched house, both of them homes to him, in some sense of the word. But he was always my home.

Sometimes I think of how he tried to get me to say goodbye to that awful house. Sometimes I wish I had tried, for him.

But, I'm an owl, and it wasn't out of character. If I got another chance, I don't know if I'd behave any differently. It's alright though. He'd understand. He always did. He's a good boy.

And I'm proud to have been his owl.


	2. Lost Champion

Author's Notes: Well, I didn't say it would only be characters who died in Book 7 - how could I include Sirius and Dumbledore then? Haha. Anyways, because some of the more current deaths make me too sad to even write about right now, here's a little insight to everyone's favorite Hufflepuff.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Cedric Diggory  
**

I like to think it was a noble death.

Harry was there, I'm sure he told it like it was. Harry's a decent bloke. He tipped me off about the dragons, which was a very good thing to know about. I did my best to help him back, of course. It's what I do. Play fair. It's why I thought we ought to have a rematch in that one Quidditch match. How could any of us known there'd be dementors spilling all over the place, and Harry'd fall off his broom? None of us did.

That Tournament…to think, I was thrilled to have been chosen. I mean, out of all the people in Hogwarts, _me_, the Champion. A real honor, and one I didn't take lightly. Especially after Harry was chosen as well. But really, how could any of us known that such a thing could happen? Fancy bit of magic, that, and none of us had any reason to consider it a possibility.

My father would assume I'd hate him. For my death? Heck, he saved me twice in that maze. So I don't blame Harry. Not for being in the tournament, and especially not for the cup. How could he have known it was a portkey? I certainly didn't. None of us had any reason to assume such a thing.

Of course, this isn't to say I wouldn't have liked to live a bit longer. I had plans you know. I was good at Quidditch. Things were going well with Cho. My dad was looking into things at the Ministry for me. Yeah, I had plans. They maybe weren't grand, but they were mine. It was supposed to be my choice.

But I don't blame Harry. He might've said it was his fight, and he drug me into it, but it was my choice to take that cup at the same time as him. Maybe it's for the best, I just wouldn't have done so well in a world that didn't play fair. I just would have liked the chance, that's all.

At least it was a noble death. That's something, isn't it?


	3. A Free Elf

Author's Notes: I could hardly believe this one. He wasn't my most favorite character, but I liked him and he certainly held his own charm. Yeah, Harry'd definitely call it "charm"!

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Dobby**

Dobby was a free elf, but Dobby lived for one purpose - to serve Harry Potter. Funny for Dobby to say, Dobby the free elf admitting to _wanting_ to serve another, but serving Harry Potter was an honor.

And Harry Potter would say Dobby was not _serving_ him, but being a_ friend_. And that was another reason for Dobby's sole purpose. To be Harry Potter's friend…!

Besides, Harry Potter had saved Dobby, and so of course Dobby must do Dobby's best for Harry Potter. There was nothing Harry Potter could have asked Dobby to do, that Dobby wouldn't do. No matter how difficult, or frightening it might be. No matter if it meant Dobby faced death.

Harry Potter was loyal, and Dobby would be loyal too.

Now Dobby tries not to think of the knife, or the look in Harry Potter's face, because those are not happy memories. Dobby likes to think of the sock that orchestrated his freedom. The sock that was really Harry Potter's sock, and Harry Potter's doing. Dobby likes to think of Hogwarts and all the clothing Dobby owned. Dobby really likes to think of freedom, and that Dobby chose to serve Harry Potter.

And maybe most of all, Dobby likes to think about Dobby's final actions. Because it was Dobby's choice, and Dobby's purpose, after all.

Dobby is proud to have been saving Harry Potter as his last act.


	4. Family Man

Author's Notes: Thank you all for the kind words! I feel that this is sort of a healing process, as corny as that sounds, but it seems many of you consider it the same? Well, I only hope I continue to do the characters justice. And some words for this one - remember, Remus and Tonks were still alive and well, as far as he knew.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Ted Tonks **

There's something innately sad about what the world was becoming when I ran. I had a small taste of it before, with 'Dromeda's family. She always said she was glad to get away from them, and with Dora around, it all seemed to be fine anyways. But now…

I remember when I asked 'Dromeda to marry me. I asked her if it would be hard for her to give up her family. She had only laughed, that same laugh that Dora has, and said maybe one of her sisters would miss her, but that'd be it. And now I know she won't be alone, with Dora and Remus and our grandchild, but a small part of me worries.

'Dromeda's safe, and that's what really matters the most, I think. And I know Dora will be ok, Remus will take care of her. I'm going to miss out on my grandchild, which I know I would've liked to spoil rotten, but that's the way it goes.

I was nothing particularly special, just a wizard with a different background. For that, I had to run, which was no real picnic. My company was decent, which made it better, but the threat of your own life hanging over you just keeps things dim.

And yet, there was always that small bit of hope, and I hope that those after me can keep it alive. As long as there's hope, there can be action. As long as there's love, there can be acts of love. And as long as there's new life, life can carry on.

To you, my grandchild.


	5. Picture Perfect

Author's Notes: Well, this one turned out a little longer then I thought it would, but I'm pretty pleased with it.

* * *

Discliamer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Colin Creevey**

I always liked photographs as my way of preserving memories. After all, the mind can't be expected to remember everything, and there's always so much to remember! All those little moments, and the big ones too!

I found though, that the older I got, the less I felt this way. Photographs also have a way of being incredibly sad, if you want them to be. When you look back on them, and see things the way that they were (usually wonderful, with the rose-tinted glasses of nostalgia), it's painful to see things as they currently are.

And things definitely got worse the older I got. There was so much good, like my first kiss (with Orla Quirke!), and Gryffindor's success with Quidditch, and Hogsmeade, but things didn't stay such, with the inclusion of my first breakup (also with Orla), Quidditch being banned, and Hogsmeade ruined by Death Eaters.

Looking back at happier times seemed like such a waste of time then, and I'll admit, I often yelled at Dennis for doing it himself. It just seemed pointless; why reminisce when there was a war going on and Hogwarts was practically ruined. That's why being part of Dumbledore's Army never seemed like such an important act as it did that year. Rather then looking back on the past, I was ready to fight for the future. Of course I disobeyed McGonagall, how could I not? To fight meant to move forward.

It's odd now though. Memories are all that's left. And I think I'm ok with that, because I have nothing to be ashamed of. It's through memories that legends get passed, after all. And I know I can never hope for such a fate overall, but I can hope that I made everyone proud.

I hope I left a good memory.


	6. Little Rat

Author's Notes: Back again, and some baddies for you! Aw, come on, even the evil are slightly misunderstood!

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Peter Pettigrew**

I don't know who's going to miss me.

I've done too many things, too many regrettable, some may say despicable things to even warrant being missed. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if everyone threw a party celebrating my demise. Who cares about the little rat, the complete bastard who allowed for the death of the so-called golden couple?

No one cares and no one ever did. You think I didn't hear the whispers? My friends were the _most popular_ boys around, the_ meanest_ boys around, short of some Slytherins, and I was the little tag-along. No one gave me any credit, because I simply wasn't as good looking, as attention grabbing as James, or Sirius.

Nothing I did made any difference. I managed to become an Animagus, didn't I? Big whoop, 'cause we couldn't tell anyone. How about that fancy bit of magic, killing those twelve people and framing Sirius? Well, there was some pity for a while there, but because I had to pretend to be dead everyone thought it was Sirius's magic, so again, I was just the victim who was awful at magic. Oh, what about that time I _brought Lord Voldemort back to life_, pretty much, that was a nice bit of work. But who cares, I got overlooked, 'cause big bad Voldemort was back.

And what kills me (ha!) is that I can't get over it. I'm no leader, even I know that, but hell, I'd like some appreciation every one and a while. I'm not an idiot, and most of what I do is an act anyway. People looked at me in disgust, hating me for my methods of looking out for myself, keeping number one at the top of the priority list. How could I be so callous? What a terrible person!

Well, you know what got me killed?

Pity. For him. There he was, looking like James and watching me like Lily, telling me that I _owe_ him, and I hesitated and bam, I'm dead.

Hey, I'm not making excuses for anything I've done. I played the game and I played it by the rules I thought would let me win. Everybody does that. By looking out for myself, I managed to survive in this hate-ridden world longer than I ever thought. I did some things most people won't do, but they think about it. I never claimed to be a saint and I never claimed any love for those guys who just wanted a sucker to play tricks on. No one's gonna miss me and it was my own choice.

But Harry better stay alive himself and freaking kill that stupid wizard. No one better not miss me for nothing.


	7. Obsessive Love

Author's Notes: Like I said, baddie time. Sometimes, you just gotta wonder what they must think though, you know?

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Bellatrix Lestrange**

I loved him.

Or maybe his power, or his ideals, or perhaps all of these things and more. He was the embodiment of all I'd ever wanted, of all I ever knew. Power and magic, above all, hahaha! Absolutely loyalty was what he wanted, and that I gave in bounds. I went to Azkaban for him. Because of I was loyal to him, because I loved him, because he was what I strove to be. That's love, isn't it?

But his treatment of me was...less than can be desired. He let Snape in on his schemes, not me. He would not give me what I wanted, though my upbringing had me as a lady in every manner. He said there were enough rotten apples in my family tree, and that I had better not turn out to be one too.

The very assumption!

I know he was referring to Andromeda, my stupid sister who threw her whole life away, her heritage away, all for what, love of a Muggle? He also had to be referring to that fool cousin of mine, Sirius, who aligned himself with idiots like James Potter. What would that boy have said if he knew Sirius only befriended him because it would outrage him mother?

Haha, and maybe he was referring to even Narcissa, my lovely sister. What can I even say about her? Too much love for her family, I suppose. And why, I don't know, that nephew of mine is more than an right imbecile if you ask me.

They were all just weak. But I wasn't. And I don't understand why he couldn't believe me when I told him that.

Of my sisters, I never understood any of it. Andromeda left us for love of a man, and Narcissa made that Unbreakable Vow for the love of her child. What I knew of love made one disloyal to him.

But I loved him, or at least his power and ideals. I went to Azkaban for him, I nearly killed my niece and I did kill my cousin for him, but none of that let me in on this love nonsense. Doing those things for him still didn't help me understand my sisters claims of love.

And at the end, when we were back at Hogwarts battling for his complete takeover, there I was, for him. I finally killed my niece for him. I don't even know how many others I killed for him. When I took on three of those foolish young girls and almost killed one, a Weasley, (the world would have been a better place too), that Weasley woman, her mother, went completely nuts.

And I saw it, the same vengeance in her face for a child that I'd seen in Narcissa's about my nephew, though hers had been more subdued. But I didn't understand it. Death is death.

I loved him and I finally died for him, and I never understood.


	8. Ultimate Auror

Author's Notes: Alright, enough with the baddies, at least for now! Back to our favorites, and perhaps the ones that are a little more sad, in our minds.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody**

Good thing I went doin' my job.

I'd have hated it if I'd have died in my sleep, or been attacked by some common thief, though I know that wouldn't really have been a problem. No, it's a good thing it happened while doin' my job as an Auror, and better yet, protectin' Harry.

Funny thing bein' I got no real regrets about the whole ordeal. I mean, not that I'm exactly happy it happened, but it's not like I haven't been around a while. I've done quite a lot in my life, put some real problematic people away, and I've been honored and the like, so it's ok with me.

Well, that's not exactly true, there's that lowlife Mundungus that has to be dealt with, but I've no worries that the Order will take of that, if they can keep Harry under control too. Heh, Harry. I hope he's alright, and that this little plan worked out. I knew it was dangerous, but I didn't think I'd go, not really.

But like I said, no regrets. It's all over and done with, and I hope no one's too weepy about it, 'cause there's a long ways to go before Voldemort can be killed. I just hope I get a proper burial in this mess. And I hope someone takes care of my eye.

Constant vigilance, Harry. That goes for the whole Order, too, you hear me?


	9. Pink Affection

Author's Notes: Back again. About time, right? I think we're getting into the sadder ones now...

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Nymphadora Tonks**

You ever feel like an untold story? Like there's more to you than just what people know? I felt that way almost every day of my life, and you know? I still think I do.

Maybe that's what really drew me to Remus. I definitely knew there was more to him than just the werewolf thing he seemed so fixated on. And it made me sad, that that was what he fixated himself on, how he identified himself. Ok, ok, I know, it's hard not to identify himself any other way, but still.

I guess I never thought about it, because it was so easy for me to change, so easy to identify myself in a new way any time I felt like it. Adaptable on the outside. Which, now that I think about it, is sort of how I identify myself after all. Ha, what a hypocrite!

At any rate, there's more to me then just the Metamorphmagi stuff. And the klutz.

I'm a fighter, for sure. Mum always said that I was, that I'd inherited just enough Black to know what I wanted and to go for it, but not enough to be a snot. Dad always laughed when she said that, and it took me a while before I finally understood.

But anyway, I'm a fighter, and the hardest fight of my life was getting Remus. Out of everything I'd ever done, getting him to admit that he loved me was hardest thing to accomplish, but in the end, the best. There was nothing else I could ever imagine wanting.

Of course then there was the pregnancy and Teddy… but what a time for a child. And I'm no mother, not really. Not that I didn't think I couldn't be one, it's just I'd never imagined I could identify myself as one, I suppose. And what a world for a child to come into…already my mother skills seemed a bit off.

Oh Remus, what have we done? I can think of no other way I'd want to go, then fighting for what's right along side you, and if one of us had to go I want to say it's best that we go together, because I couldn't imagine living without you, but now Teddy…

If nothing else, at least we've left him a better place to live in. Mum'll take good care of him, I know. And Harry's there, as well, there's not a better role model out there. He'll be alright. I know he will. With being a metamorphmagi he can look as he wants, and he's got enough of Remus in him, I'm sure, that he'll be level-headed.

And I'll wait for him, (and it better be a good long time Teddy!) and we'll get to welcome him back, Remus and myself. But until then, I'll wait. Knowing that I managed to fight for what I wanted, fight for what was right, and leave a small bit of legacy to carry on.

I really hope Teddy's not as clumsy as me though, it just got to be embarrassing after a bit.


	10. Moonlight Lament

Author's Notes: I'm going to admit, writing this one made me very sad. I think Lupin was a very complex guy.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Remus Lupin**

There's too much complication, too much that's been muddled with for the past to be revisited once again.

It's tough on a child to learn about prejudice at a young age. Trust, which is much to easily given, is a precious thing indeed then. And so the idea of non-action essentially ruled my young life. If I didn't do anything, I wouldn't stand out, and people wouldn't know what I was.

I never put up much resistance towards society's expectations of what I was, just like I never put up much resistance towards James and Sirius's actions. Most of that has made me what I turned out to be, and even, to some extent, shaped others into who they were.

But that's life. It gives you your lot and you can only go from there.

There was no real future for me, I knew that. I think I knew it even while still in school, but it was easier to dream then, when the others were there. James, Sirius…even Peter, when we were young and real life didn't seem as real.

It hurt later on, if I let it, to realize I was the only one left. The last _real_ marauder. Those days seemed so long ago, and though I wouldn't easily go back to them, it was never easy to look forward either.

That's why the Order was such a blessing…and a curse as well. Nymphadora Tonks…I don't know what she saw in me. An older man, battered and beaten down by life in general, his life in specifics. No real means of making money, no real future, cursed with a disease that could harm her, the sort of man mothers warn their daughters about. But she always swore there was more to me than what I wanted to see.

And there is, I know. It's just that, I hadn't let that part of myself out for a very long time. As it was, only the marauders, and Lily to some extent, had gotten to know me, to see past the lycanthropy, and accept me. But so very few do, those in the know, and it's so much easier to just go along with that.

But she wore me down, enough for marriage, which was quite enough of a challenge for me to accept, but then, a child! Thank goodness for Harry, or I might have really missed one of the most important moments of my entire forsaken life! Just like back then…James could so easily talk sense into me, if I'd let him…

I cannot even begin to express how thankful I was that Teddy received her metamorphmagi abilities, rather than my lycanthropy. That was the first moment that I knew his lot in life would be easier. And with Voldemort's impending defeat, that was simply another dark cloud in his life gone. Everything I could have possibly wanted for him, for his life to be perfect, wonderful, was there. And still is, of course, except for his parents.

I'd always ached for Harry, that he'd never get to know James or Lily, that he missed out on that essential part of childhood, of his past. And I swore to myself that, if by some miracle I ever were to have a child, I would make certain he knew me. Look - I couldn't even keep it. Now Teddy's lost both of us.

Andromeda's a good woman, she'll raise him right. And I know Harry will take the right hand in helping him grow up. He'll know the right stories to tell him as well, so that maybe Teddy will know us, know me, in some small fashion. Yes, Teddy's got Harry, who knows what it's like, and so that cloud over his life can be alleviated somewhat. It won't be the same as if we were there for him…but we at least did our part for him to have a better world to grow up in.

And I can finally rest, rejoin those all those who were lost, my _friends_, and sit back as time tells our own tales. And wonder of wonders, if I look back on it, my own tale, it's not as bad as it always looked like it must be. I may not have done a lot, but when it mattered, when it _really_ mattered, I stepped up and did what needed to be done. Perhaps that really says it all.

Time is limited and fleeting, and extra complications may make it seem hopeless, but I think I finally realized, in the end, is that there's always something that makes every bit of it - the sorrow, the tragedy, and the pain - worth living through to reach it. You've just got to be able to admit it to yourself.

And accept it.


	11. Twinkle Eyes

Author's Notes: This was really difficult to write because I do not write Dumbledore at all. I just could not get into his mind! That being said, I did the best I could, and really really hope I pulled it off!

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

* * *

**Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore**

Ah, how shall I put this? I am finding myself oddly at a loss for things to say anymore - my life was long and for the most part, quite fulfilling. I have said much over that time, and yet I do not think I said much of anything at all. In the truly worthwhile sense, is what I mean to say.

The last few years, especially in dealing with Harry, were both my most brilliant times and quite possibly my worst times. Severus called me out on it, of course, but I did what had to be done. And it worked, did it not? But I am not bragging, because I made mistakes, grave ones as always. Still, despite this, it worked.

I, while giving the impression of always looking forward, always thinking ahead, lived too much in the past. With one eye always looking behind, it was difficult to look both in the present and to the future, but I still tried. And managed well enough, though it's not a method I would suggest to anyone. It's much better to acknowledge that the past happened, and let that change us as it will, and then go on in life. I think that Harry will manage this much better than I.

On the subject of Severus, I merely want to thank him. The world is full of people like him, confused, beat down, and neglected, and he, in his own sense of love, found the strength to do what he must. I wish all people could do as he did…though perhaps without the constant negativity!

I don't know, I'm just an old man now, ready to close this chapter and this book. Let's allow this next generation to fill the next pages, shall we? I'm sure they've got much to say, if we'd only take the time to hear them out.

A few final words for you all then - and I hope you'll find comfort in their odd familiarity: _"Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak"_.


	12. Lost Twin

Author's Notes: Hm. Thought I'd better finish this up, what do you think? Just a few more to go before I'll be finished with it. Enjoy!  


* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Fred Weasley**

So there it was, the biggest fight in history and I was part of it. Makes me famous, you know. The shop oughta do well now. And anyways, I didn't feel a thing, not really. And I was laughing, just the way we'd always imagined it. Laughing and taking part in the biggest fight in history, can't ask for a better way to go.

Somehow though, I don't see that being much comfort for George. I hope he's doing alright. We always were quite the pair, and him losing that ear was bad enough, but this?

Maybe it's for the better. Rather than a set, he can be himself.


	13. Dark Lord

Author's Notes: Five more after this folks, then this will be wrapped up. Enjoy!

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Tom Marvolo Riddle or Lord Voldmort**

Sometimes you just know you're different.

You know it by the way people look at you, whisper about you, treat you, and ignore you. When you're different and you know you're different, you get to make a decision. Are you going to be kicked around by those who mistreat you? Or are you going to rise above them, and show then just exactly why you being different is you being better. Because different is better. Different means the option to take chances that the normal cowardly lot won't take.

Still, not many take the chance to show they're better. I got that chance when I was eleven. Proving my intelligence, I took the chance and I grew and became even better. Precious few others knew of my high status, and precious few in even that group knew me. I was well on my way to wrapping those same people who once mocked me around my little finger, eager to do my bidding. Only one man ever suspected, ever tried to keep me down, ever saw through me, through every disguise I ever had, through every snide comment I made, through every plot I had been a part of.

He was the worst of all. The way he looked at me, treated me, talked to me, but worst of all, the way he didn't ignore me. I was becoming a god among foolish men, tricking those who once tried to keep me in a place I didn't belong. Yet he refused to be tricked, and he was my stumbling stone in proving I was better. I began to try to prove to him and him alone that I was better, that I was more than just a dark background and whispered comments, that I didn't need him or his knowledge, that I was the more powerful one. I was different. I was better. But so was he.

And that's why he, above all, had to die. Because then, and only then, would I be able to fully take my place at the top of the world. The little boy who was nothing but different would show them all that he was better in the end. All those nasty little comments other had made against me would build up like a gallows and I would be there to make sure that death followed.

Sometimes you just know you're better.

...

But that sniveling little boy was different too.


End file.
